My Dearest Love
by TechnophoriaCOS
Summary: After being forced into brutal prostitution for two years without having contact with his fiance Alfred, Arthur writes a note. A note in which the response to it will not receive an answer. (Rated M. Heavily implied USUK. Contains rape and violence. This is my first writing piece published here. I hope you enjoy it.)


My Dearest love,

It was been two years since I have seen you. Nothing in my heart aches more than it aches for you. You probably think I have run off with another man, or ran for the money. I did not. This man I am with; I do not like. I detest him. I despise his existence, my love. I did not run. If I run, it is for you. Every day I look at the spot on my hand where my ring was before it was ripped from me. Before you were ripped from me, or me from you. Tears stream down my cheeks and I do not wipe them for they remind me of you. The last time I was with you. I cried of happiness. I looked into your blissful blue eyes as you told me you loved me, you cared for me, you trusted me, you wanted to be with me, you wanted to marry me. I cannot wipe the look upon your face from my mind and wiping my tears will feel as if I am doing such.

On the 29th of April, I took my time enjoying the breeze against my face because it assured me spring was here. It was here and thriving. How I hated the snow. Your image tattooed in my mind while I walked. Stupid, how distracted was I if it was easy for someone to wrap their hand around my nose with a cloth laced with liquid nitrogen and god knows what else? I felt the cold cotton on my face for seconds before I fell. I do not have a way of knowing what happened during the period of my mental absence.

I woke up in a bedroom with nothing but a television and a filthy mattress. My hands were tied behind me with plastic as were my feet. I squirmed and writhed against the soiled floor trying to escape as well as examine my surroundings. I could still smell the disgusting stench of it. It smelled of sweat and waste. I heard heavy steps walk in, I shook at that. I did not know what I would do then. I remember thinking of you. What would you do? I wished not to worry you. I wished I was with you. The man wore gloves and a mask. A white mask. He held onto my hair and dragged me toward the television. My screams filled the room; masking the stench for a while. He placed my face against the glass of the television which depicted an image of me leaving my residence. Another image appeared, one of myself, coming home, and one of you, my love. Tears expelled profusely from my eyes as he spoke. He said things such as: "I've been watching you baby." and "Who's this?" At this question he pressed my forehead to the glass and said. "Your husband, no, fiancée?" The man threw me onto the mattress and called me so many things I could not count them on my fingers and yours combined, dear. Bitch, slut, faggot, trash, worthless motherfucker, cock sucker, cunt. I could not get his voice out of my mind. I cannot. I yelled back. I did not recognise his voice nor did I know why he was doing this, and I am afraid to say I never could find the answer to it. My shouting was ceased by his hand slamming the back of my head into the drywall behind me. He told me that I could not talk to daddy that way.

I glared at him. I suppose that set him off because he proceeded to knock my head against the wall as he stripped me of my trousers. He raped me over 4 times that day. I could not hear a thing. This man tied cloth around my mouth, the same as he used to make me unconscious, to silence me. The pain was unbearable. He beat then raped me. If my tears fell he would beat me again, while speaking of always wanting to do this to me. He spoke as if I knew him. As if we knew each other. How he was waiting for the perfect time to do this. Everything around me shook, my vision blurred and my heart dropped.

My head grew heavy from being shoved to the wall causing me to fall into a concussion. He threw me back onto the soiled mattress and told me to behave.

I woke up in another room with a young gentleman who told me to call him Feli and that was all. I never learned his real name, but I suppose that was necessary. He looked to be in the same situation as I, though he was custom to this. His auburn hair was dead as were his eyes. He was so young. His lips would shiver when he spoke and his fingers imitated the motion of them.

This man came into the room once again and took the finger which our precious stone was upon. He demanded I give it to him but I could not. How could I?

He broke it. He bent my ring finger backward until he heard a snap. I sobbed when he took it from me. I pleaded to him to give it to me but he ignored every single one.

Feli later asked me who I was engaged to. I told him "The most wonderful man in my life." he emptily chuckled and said that he, too, had a special man in his life. One he called Luddy. I asked for his full name though he would not give it to me. Wise boy.

What happened else in that complex passes my mind. This man threatened to hurt you frequently so I "will behave so daddy won't hit me."

That night he sent me out to "Make a profit."

I ran. I ran and ran as far as I could. I ran in those degrading clothes. The cigarette burns in my soles killed me with every step and the cuts under my fingernails pulsed with my heart beat. I knew I could not run. I knew I could not get away. How foolish was I. He would hurt you if I tried to escape. I walked back, though not far in, I was offered a job. I got in and worked. I was raped over and over with foreign objects then had bills thrown at me because I "was a life saver." I cried to myself that night. I knew I would be there for a long time and I knew I could not see you, my beautiful dear.

I lost track of the days, I felt the seasons but not the time.

There was a day when it pained me to put clothes on. I explained how the bruises and scars burned when anything touched them. For this, I was struck across the face.

Another day, I remember the man storming in with Feli's throat in his hand. He screamed at him for trying to run. Feli was screaming of his love being killed. My stomach sank as pity ran into my veins. My heart ached for you again, as it did every day.

The young man's face turned pale then a shade of blue. His lips stopped moving. His limbs went limp though his eyes were more alive in that moment than I had ever seen. The man placed the barrel of a gun to his head and pressed hard. Felis flesh was too cold for him to sweat. He looked at me for a split second. I stood there, gaping and sobbing for him. If I moved you would get hurt. His eyes rested to me as the trigger was pulled. His lifeless gaze returned. My body shook in terror. My eyes followed the remains of his skull head on the back wall. My voice diminished.

The man waved the gun at me and proceeded to explain to me why "I should listen to daddy." He held me close and stroked my hair. My head was to his chest with the hand that held a pistol. The barrel was buried into my sweat-damp hair while he whispered to me anxiously about why I was his love and why I was his star. I was his 'everything.' He said he loved me. He claimed to love me and that I shall never leave. I spit in his face for it. I do not know why. I did not think about that first but when the words passed his lips "I love you" My head was in a state of insanity. His disgusting description of love enraged me. I hate him with every ounce of blood in me. YOU love me. YOURE my everything. I found it repulsive that he believed he could feel for me what you do. What you feel for me is sacred and how dare he toss it around that way. No one would feel the way you do for me. No one.

He shoved my face into the wall and placed the barrel back onto my neck. "Tell me you love me." Were his words. No. I would not. My body's adrenaline, fear, and anxiety raced through me. He beat me with the handle until he saw blood. Blood coated and hid my tears. He plunged his fists into my face and kicked me as hard as he thought he could. My lips could not move either. Blood came up from my stomach and onto the filthy mattress. "I'll make you love me." Was what he said.

He took my neck and dug his fingers in enough to bruise me. He made sure my airway was suffocated when he put himself into me. He raped me repeatedly and yet could not draw that phrase from me. That phrase is for you, and for you only.

The gun cocked back against my skull.

"Shoot me." fluttered through. I hoped he did it. I hoped he would accept and pull the trigger. I hoped he would leave me to lie there, with blood spilling from my mouth from when he kicked me and from my neck where my vibrate would rupture. "I don't love you." I said. The words could barely expel. My breaths were uneven, I had trouble breathing, and my body felt limp, but I assume it was shaking from the way he held me down.

A complacent smile came across his face. "You would love that? Wouldn't you?" He laughed at me. I wanted him to stop. He mocked me so frequently I could not take it, but what was I going to do? I heard the handle of the firearm bash against my head repeatedly, though I did not feel it. I was numb. I wanted to die.

I spent the next few months or so working. I came to him with a few more bruises, scrapes, and hikeys, as you would have called them. He grabbed me arm roughly and snatches my clothing off which usually left marks against my skin. The man would then grip the back of my neck and pull me down for a bloody open mouthed kiss, complete with the now disgusting taste of tobacco, alcohol, blood, and toothpaste. I could not kiss him back. If I did not he would become furious. I tried to. I never hated myself so much. I never wanted to shut myself in and wait to rot as much as I did then. Please forgive me, my love. Please.

I have planned many times to escape but I could not complete them. In vain, I tried. If I do so once more he will murder you. "You'll never leave here." He tells me.

I will. I will leave.

This is a note. A note in which the response to it will not receive an answer. I need to leave this place. I love you Alfred. Do not ever forget that. Living this way is not within my limit. Having to kiss someone else kills me. I am so sorry. I could not be there for our wedding. I am sorry I could not be there for our home. I am sorry I could not be there for you. As I write this I look down at my finger and I cannot help but have tears run down my face, again. I am sobbing terribly thinking of your beautiful face, personality. You. You are all I have ever wanted. I will love you to the end of time and on. This is my time. I will see you again my dear, in a later life. Goodbye my love.

Yours Eternally, Arthur Kirkland


End file.
